


The Origin

by knlalla



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anal Sex, Blood, Blood kink?, Established Relationship, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Reality, Smut, Strained Relationships, Vampire!Phil, almost, not exceptionally graphic but there is a knife injury, the urge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 21:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: The origin story of how Dan came up with his TABINOF fanfic, The Urge (Phil POV).This is a work of fiction, I do not own Dan and PhilTWs: smut, if that bothers you, and descriptions of blood, and death sort of





	The Origin

**Phil POV**

Dan doesn’t talk about that night, and I’m more than glad to leave the topic alone - it was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, but he acts so differently around me now. I don’t feel physical pain anymore, true, but every time he moves just a bit farther away during a conversation, every subtle look of discomfort when I pull out a bag of blood, every flash of fear in his eyes when I step toward him too quickly - they all feel like a knife twisting in my heart.

“Hey Dan, I’m going to pick up some more, uh, _stuff_ ,” I even avoid saying the word ‘blood’ around him; though he tries to hide it, he always cringes, and I feel awful making him so uncomfortable. “Do you need anything?” I’m at the bottom of the staircase, about to step outside.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he calls back. From the outside, we look pretty normal. In fact, nobody aside from our family and close friends even knows about my ‘near death’ experience; Dan’s the only one who knows what really happened. I step outside, unfazed by the wintry chill - though I’ve pulled on a coat anyway, to keep up appearances.

I source my blood from a local hospital, only a few miles from our apartment. They have to get rid of donated blood after about forty days, and I’d convinced one of the nurses to provide me with the near-expired stuff - she thinks I’m a grad student doing some biology research, and I make sure to compensate her generously for her efforts.

I cut through the park, using the cover of foliage and the setting sun to run faster than a normal human could. Funny how, before this, I’d never even consider _walking_ somewhere more than a few blocks away - now I’m literally _sprinting_ over the course of a few miles without any heavy breathing. Or breathing at all, really.

Janice had given me the access code for the door to the morgue, where she typically sneaks me the blood. I key it in, pulling open the heavy metal door as the lock clicks open, and step inside. Then check my phone for the time.

 _Okay, I’m a few minutes early, no big deal_. I lean against the wall, but start to bounce on the balls of my feet impatiently. Janice is usually here early, ready to shove the cooler into my hands, collect her cash, and send me off. In fact, I can’t remember a time she wasn’t already waiting for me by now.

I decide to investigate, wandering silently down the dimly-lit hall and past a few nondescript doors. _Eugh, gross_ \- the scent of dead bodies and formaldehyde drifts through the cracks from what must be the morgue itself, and it’s amplified by my heightened sense of smell. _Yay, vampiric benefits_ , I groan to myself, holding my sleeve up to my face to block out as much of it as I can.

I hear a clicking down a branching hallway as I approach, accompanied by the soft swish of blood running through human veins. _Oh hell, that only happens when I’m getting hungry..._ I round the corner to see a young man sitting at a desk, tapping his pen disinterestedly against the wood. He looks up as my shadow falls over him, clearly shocked by my sudden appearance.

“Uh, hello, how can I help you?” The startled look doesn’t leave his face, so I take a slight step back. _I know what fear looks like...I see it from Dan almost daily_. A barb of misery hooks into my gut, but I push it aside and give the man a big, close-mouthed smile. _Focus on the task at hand._

“Right, I’m looking for Janice. I, uh, we have an appointment?” I try not to turn it into a question, but I hear my tone lift at the end. The man narrows his eyes, no longer looking scared, and turns to his laptop. 

“Janice Nesmith? The nurse?” I nod, though I don’t really know her last name - whoever he brought up first was most likely the right person. He scans his screen for a few moments before looking back to me. Now he looks suspicious. Every muscle in my body tenses, ready to run.

“She was fired last week for ‘mishandling biological waste’,” his voice is low, and I take a step back. “Says she was stealing blood, and they found evidence of her selling it,” he stands, and I don’t bother to listen as he lifts a walkie-talkie to his mouth - I bolt.

I’m out the door and back on our street in mere minutes, leaning against the brick wall of the building across from ours. If my heart were beating, it’d be racing right now. _That was my one source of blood, it took almost a week to find it, and I was starving by then!_ I can feel the thoughts like little bugs buzzing around inside my head. _I ran out of blood yesterday, what happens when I need to eat? I got lucky finding that lady, but now I can’t even go back to that hospital!_

Normally, whenever I’m faced with a problem, I can talk to Dan about it - with the way he over-analyzes every situation, I can always rely on him to vet out every possible solution. _But I can’t talk to him, not about this_. I push away from the wall and head toward our building - _standing out here isn’t helping anything._

“Hey!” I call to Dan as I lock the door behind me. Though it seems he didn’t hear _me_ , I can hear _him_ ; he’s in his room, and I’m immensely grateful. _If he sees me without the cooler, he’ll know something went wrong._ I rush up to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pretending to store the nonexistent blood bags in the drawer I’ve been delegated. As I slide it shut, I notice the raw chicken that Dan had evidently planned on cooking later.

 _Raw meat, could I do that again?_ I’d tried it, raw beef, during that first week; it was _exactly_ as disgusting as it sounds. It’s not the same as drinking blood, but it did seem to keep me sane and under control long enough to find a solution. I sigh, shutting the fridge door; I’ll run to the store tomorrow morning, before Dan wakes up.

 _Speaking of..._ I make my way to Dan’s room, the light rustle of blankets and clacking of his keyboard growing louder as I approach. I knock twice, and I can _hear_ his heart rate increase. Though I have no need to breathe, I exhale a deep sigh anyway. _Will he ever_ not _be afraid of me?_

“Hey Dan!” I try to sound as positive and unthreatening as I can. “Just wanted to let you know I’m back. Want to maybe do some filming for the gaming video?” Though he makes a sincere effort to act normally, especially in front of the cameras, he’s still so skittish around me. 

“Uh, sure,” more rustling, then a click just before he opens the door. _He locked the door..._ I try to convince myself it doesn’t hurt, but it does. Not that I’d let it show.

“Hey!” I smile, mouth closed so as not to bother him more - the fangs aren’t super obvious, but I know how uncomfortable they make him. _Everything about me makes him uncomfortable, now_. He lifts his cheek slightly in what I _think_ I’m meant to interpret as a smile, and I step back to let him pass.

\-------------------------------------------

We film for a bit, then Dan slips out of the room before I can attempt to start a conversation. I hear him opening the fridge, and my nerves start to tingle. _No, he’d never look in my drawer, that stuff freaks him out_. In spite of myself, I rush down the stairs, then stroll as casually as possible into the kitchen.

“Making dinner?” I ask, standing off to the side but trying to peek around him as he rummages through the fridge.

“Jesus christ, Phil,” he spins to face me, clearly startled as he bumps into the counter. “You can’t _do_ that,” he turns again, resuming his search, and I bounce on my toes in an attempt to see what he’s looking for. “Do you need something?” he asks, “Your, uh…” his tone reflects how uncomfortable he is even _mentioning_ the blood.

“No!” I shout, about to grab him - _that would tip him off even more, not to mention he’d never want to speak to me again if I so much as lay a hand on him..._ “No, I, uh, ate on my way home,” I grimace, the lie is so stupid, but Dan seems satisfied enough to avoid the topic.

“Well, yeah, I’m making dinner. Do you, uh, want any?” He smiles a little, and my hopes lift. Even though I don’t need to, I do still love to eat regular food. He’s pulling out the chicken, along with some vegetables, and I nod enthusiastically. _Maybe, if I just keep trying, he’ll come around, he’ll see that I’m still the same person I was before._

I give him some space, sitting at the breakfast bar to watch him cook. I’d offer to help, but the last time I brandished a kitchen utensil - a knife, just to chop some veggies - he’d nearly had a heart attack, apparently afraid I was about to gut him. I find myself staring, taking in every minute detail as he focuses on preparing the food.

Not every heightened sense that comes with being a vampire is great - imagine sirens wailing outside at two in the morning, then _amplify it_ \- but my sharpened vision is amazing. Dan looks absolutely breathtaking: every adorable freckle stands out against his soft skin, the warmth of the kitchen has caused tiny beads of sweat to form on his forehead, and the edges of his collarbones peek out from under his shirt as he leans over the chopping board - I can’t take my eyes off him.

 _How has it been so long since I’ve gotten to touch that skin, be the heat that makes him sweat, press my lips against those collarbones?_ My mind wanders as I stare, and I haven’t blinked in almost a full minute. He’s just barely gotten comfortable around me - not quite as shaky, not immensely terrified - but it’s been ages since we last kissed, let alone gone any further.

I’m snapped from my thoughts by the sharp scent of blood, and I can feel my fangs elongate and press against my lower lip. 

“ _Dan?_ ” I’m focused now, searching for the source of blood - his, it must be, _it smells so sweet…_ and I’m back, pushing my hunger aside long enough to notice Dan’s shaky hand, blood dripping from a slice in his thumb. _Beautiful_ , I can’t help the thought as it rises unbidden into my head, and I’m frozen, staring at the ruby red dripping from his hand.

Then it’s gone as he backs away, slamming into the counter opposite me and dropping to the ground. That’s when I notice the look in his eyes - _pure terror. He’s terrified of me._ My heart breaks all over again, and it grounds me. I lift my hands in the air slowly - _don’t startle him, don’t move too quickly_.

“I’m okay, I’m alright,” I step back, concern bubbling in my chest to replace the heartache. “Dan, it’s not stopping, it needs to be cleaned and bandaged. Do you need to go to A&E?” I try to project a calmness I don’t feel, an internal battle now raging between the beastial craving for blood and the fear that Dan’s hurt and thinks I want to hurt him more.

“N-no, I’m…” he takes a deep but shaking breath, “it’s fine, I’m fine,” his whole body is shaking, and blood has started dripping down his wrist. When he doesn’t move, and a drop splatters onto the tile floor, I bite back my hunger and make my way gradually around the counter into the kitchen, reaching for some paper towels. He’s scrunched his knees up to his chest, trying to pull himself as far away as possible, but I keep moving anyway.

“You’re not fine. Here,” I crouch down and extend the paper towels to him, and he takes them gingerly with his uninjured hand. “Apply pressure, I’ll clean this up and get some proper bandages,” I instruct. _It’s good I don’t need to breathe, that my heart doesn’t beat, or I wouldn’t be able to sound or act this calm_ , I add another mental tally to the ‘benefits of being a vampire’ column. 

I am, in fact, trying very hard _not_ to inhale at all - though the delicious scent of his blood creeps into my nose and mouth regardless. I clamp my mouth shut as I rinse the red from the cutting board, scrubbing at it with a soapy sponge and letting the overwhelmingly lemony smell of the soap replace the blood for a moment. _Wait...idea!_

I rest the clean board in the sink, squeeze most of the water out of the sponge, and drop a hefty dollop of the dish soap onto it. Once it’s all absorbed, I hold the sponge under my nose as I clean the rest of the blood one-handed. I’m just throwing away the final paper towels when I hear a soft chuckle behind me.

I turn from the bin to see Dan, not moved from the floor, with a hand across his mouth. He’s shaking again, but it doesn’t seem to be from the blood. Sponge still held up to my nose, I’m about to ask what’s so funny - _is he delusional? Did he lose that much blood?_ \- when he bursts out laughing uncontrollably. I furrow my brows, entirely confused, but he can’t seem to pull himself together.

“You, you’re, _why_ on earth…” he’s trying to speak around his laughter, but it’s coming out in half-words, and I can’t understand him. “I mean, I _get_ it,” he says, finally controlling himself long enough to form phrases, “the sponge, but you look…” he covers his mouth again, lost in a fit of giggles, and I put the pieces together.

“Oh! The sponge,” I join his laughter, “the dish soap-” I’m cut off when he jumps back in.

“Right, the soap probably smells really strongly of lemon,” his giggles die down, but he’s still smiling. _I think this is the first time I’ve seen him smile so genuinely since that night..._ I remain absolutely still in an effort not to break the moment.

Then I recall the _reason_ I’ve got a sponge to my face, and hold up a finger. “Wait, don’t move,” I instruct, rushing off to the bathroom for some bandages. I return to find him exactly where I left him, the shadow of his earlier smile still on his face, and I crouch down to his level again. “Would you mind…?” I wiggle the sponge, and he’s giving me that trademark ‘what a dork’ look, but his hand replaces mine so I’m free to wrap his thumb.

Up close, his blood is tantalizing despite my precautions, and it takes every ounce of focus I have not to jump him. _He’s hurt, you need to take care of him._ I replay the thought in my head over and over at maximum volume until the cut is thoroughly covered and I’ve managed to throw away all the bloodied paper towels. I give him another ‘wait here’ finger, reclaiming the sponge, then take the trash to the dumpster outside. 

When I return, Dan’s stood up and leaning against the countertop. 

“What?” I ask, because he looks on the verge of laughter again.

“You walked _outside_ with a _sponge on your face_ ,” he can’t keep the teasing tone from his voice, and I laugh myself. I drop the sponge from my nose experimentally - nothing but a hint of iron and the continued swish of blood running through Dan’s veins. _I can handle this,_ I nod to myself, dropping the sponge into the sink.

Attention returning to Dan, I’m a little surprised to see his grin’s changed from a smirk to the softest smile. I’m overwhelmed, suddenly, by how much I _miss_ him, and I step closer. _Phil, you can’t do that, he’s going to-_ my thoughts, ready to chastise me for frightening him, stop abruptly when I notice he hasn’t moved. Hell, he’s not even _flinched_ , though I can hear his heartbeat speed up.

I take another step, slower this time; when he makes no move to run away, I grow bolder and close the gap between us. _How long has it been since I was this close?_ I reach a finger up to his face, poking at his dimple.

“I’ve missed this,” I smile, close-mouthed just in case. He reaches his uninjured hand to where mine is still touching him and flattens it so I’m cupping his cheek. 

“I’ve missed this, too,” his eyes are closed, and he’s resting his head against my hand, so I just go for it, sweeping my unoccupied hand to the nape of his neck and pulling his lips to mine. He flinches at the contact, and I’m about to pull back - _this was too much, too much to hope for, I shouldn’t have-_ but then he’s leaning into me, deepening the kiss, and any doubts I have fly out the window. 

Until his tongue is begging for entrance to my mouth - _has he entirely forgotten the fangs? I don’t want to ruin the moment..._ Then his hips grind into mine unexpectedly, and my lips part in a moan. _Damn, it’s been too long,_ I curse, though I’m simultaneously pleased that he gets what he wants. I can feel his tongue brush against my fangs, but he doesn’t push me away, and I get an idea.

My hands, still resting at his neck and cheek, move slowly down and across his chest, then around to encircle his back; I lead him away from the counter, never breaking the kiss, and lift him off the ground in one smooth movement. _Another tally in the ‘vampiric benefits’ column,_ I smile, but his lips pull away, pausing to gasp at the sudden change.

The worry worms its way into my brain, and I feel like a passenger on the worst emotional rollercoaster on the planet; but his legs wrap around my back and his lips find mine again with renewed fervor, and I almost forget why I picked him up in the first place - I’m too lost in this moment, in this kiss.

Then his hand is tangling in my hair, and his arm is wrapped around my neck, and I’m reminded of _how badly I want him_. I walk from the kitchen, down the hall to his room, and lower him gently to the bed, breaking the kiss, the contact, as I do.

Hovering over him, I take a moment to just soak it in, absorb the _beauty_ of the man lying under me. His eyes are dark, darker than I remember, and I can see every thread of chestnut and cinnamon, shot through with a few bright lines of gold; the colors match his hair, which has curled from the heat between us. His breathing is ragged, cheeks flushed, and I feel the need to get closer, feel his warmth against my mouth.

He closes his eyes as I lower my head, like he’s expecting my lips to meet his, but I turn at the last second to kiss his cheek, then his jaw, then his neck - here, I stop, the sound and scent of his blood drawing me in. _It would be so easy, so quick, to just..._ I squeeze my eyes shut until I see stars, begging the hunger to abate, and focus instead on moving my kisses lower. They meet his collarbone, though it’s barely visible, so my hands slide down his sides to tug at the bottom of his shirt. If he noticed my hesitation, the moment I almost lost control, he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he sits up enough for me to pull his shirt over his head, and I return my attention to his skin, his shoulders, his chest, and my lips work their way down, across the soft skin of his stomach, until I reach the hem of his jeans. I leave light kisses at his hips as I remove the fabric constricting his erection.

I don’t know what I expected, but if the blood in Dan’s neck was almost enough to make me lose control, I should’ve given more thought to releasing his throbbing cock only a few inches from my lips. Hunger collides with lust, and I take him into my mouth before I can contemplate just how _horrible_ an idea that is - my fangs are out, I can feel them pressing against his skin, and being so close to this much of his blood... _I can almost taste it._

I pull back abruptly, balling my hands into fists in the bedsheets beside us, and squeeze my eyes shut again. _I’ve completely ruined it. Now he knows I’m not in control, he’s probably gonna go all Buffy on me in my sleep, and I wouldn’t even blame him..._ I’ve not moved, afraid to open my eyes, afraid to confront the look of horror I know must be plastered on Dan’s face, _afraid I might just give in_...but I startle when I feel a finger trail along my cheek.

“Focus on me, and maybe no head for awhile?” I’m shocked by his voice, soft and low and _close_ , and my eyes fly open. He’s sat up, a small smile on his face, and his hand has made its way to the back of my neck. I resist for a moment when he pulls me toward him - _he’s...okay with this? He’s not scared? But what if I hurt him?_ \- but his lips are on mine, and it’s intoxicating, and my brain stops functioning.

I collapse onto him, full of desire but inexplicably frustrated - it’s not until he’s grasping desperately at my shirt that I realize the issue - _I need to be closer, I need his skin on mine_. I pull back, catching sight of his bruised lips and pink cheeks in the moments before I throw my shirt over my head. Dan’s staring, now, and I can hear his heartbeat skyrocket as his eyes rake over me. I barely feel the touch of his fingers tugging at the button of my jeans before I’m sliding them off as well, along with my boxers, and reaching toward his bedside drawer. Though it’s been years since I felt the need to ask, the change in our circumstances bothers me.

“Are you...sure about this?” I say, pausing with my hand extended. “I don’t want to…” I trail off, sure he’s capable of filling in the blanks. His gaze goes hard for a moment, but he nods, so I waste no time pulling out the lube and coating my fingers. I sit back and slide my first finger inside him, relishing the soft moan that escapes his lips. Though we’ve done this a hundred times, I was beginning to worry it might never happen again, and I want to savor every single second.

“More,” Dan’s voice is breathy, and I’m quick to comply, thrusting another finger in. He must be as desperate as I am, he’s already rocking against me, and _fuck I just want to be inside him already_. I hope I’m not rushing as I slide a third finger in, but he throws his head back against the pillow and I take it as a good sign. _His neck is so damn beautiful, I just want to-_ I clench my unoccupied hand into the sheets again, fighting off the wave of hunger that courses through me.

“ _Mmm, Phil, please,_ ” Dan moans, and the hunger is overwhelmed by desire as I stare at the man writhing below me, literally begging me to fuck him. I slide my fingers out and he whines at the loss, so I coat my cock with the lube as quickly as I can. He gasps when I make contact, and I pause for a moment. “Cold,” he whimpers, and I give the pathetic brown eyes staring at me a sympathetic look.

“I can’t really do anything about that, unfortunately,” I smile, though, glad he’s _warming_ \- pun absolutely intended - to the idea of my...condition. He pouts, and I take that moment to sink into him - his gasp, and subsequent moan, send a shiver down my spine. _This, I missed this,_ the thought runs through my head again as I stare down at him, flushed and biting his lip. 

Though I desperately want to fuck him senseless, to make up for lost time, I start off slowly to allow him to adjust to having me inside him. But his hand is pulling me down, into a messy kiss, and the rush of his blood pulsing in his veins hits me full force.

“ _Phil!_ ” He’s moaning my name against my lips as I ram into him, far rougher than we’ve ever been before. My movement is driven both by lust for his body and a craving for his blood, and my lips find their way to his neck. His moans vibrate against my mouth, and it takes every ounce of my weakening willpower not to sink my teeth into his soft skin. Until he speaks again.

“ _Do it,_ ” it comes out as a whisper, so quiet that I probably would’ve missed it if not for my amplified hearing. It’s enough to pull me from my hungry, passionate daze, and I freeze at his words. “Bite me,” he says, clearer now, though he’s still panting.

“You want me to do _what_ now?” I know I sound shocked, but an undercurrent of desire sneaks its way in. _He wants it, don’t ask questions, just do it._

“You heard me, I know you did. And I know you want to. I’ve been thinking about it, if you don’t bite me, if you don’t _turn_ me, I’ll grow old, I’ll _die_. I would rather…” the words are tumbling out at record speed, and it strikes me how much thought he’s given this. “I would rather live forever, with you, than grow old while you stay the same. Maybe it’s selfish to ask, but please-” I cut him off, ducking down to his neck again, poised to bite.

“Are you _sure_ about this?” My lips move against his neck, and I can feel my fangs elongate. His heartbeat is racing under my mouth, and it’s _so tempting_ …

“ _Please,_ ” he whispers, and it’s almost a moan, and I suddenly recall exactly the position we’re in. So I begin my thrusts again, slowly; just the idea of biting his neck, tasting his blood, is enough to bring me to the edge. _Oh god, how easy it would be, how amazing he would taste...but I can’t, I shouldn’t..._

“Phil, I’m-” he moans louder this time, and his hand is winding through my hair, his breath coming in soft gasps, so I stop thinking and sink my teeth into his neck.

The sweet taste of his blood is pure bliss, and my body shudders with the orgasm that courses through me. Through a haze, I feel Dan below me as he rides out his own high - I can’t tell if the tensing of his muscles is from pleasure or pain, or some combination, but I can barely focus on anything other than the rich liquid spilling across my tongue. _Far better than any half-curdled bag of stranger’s blood…_

I’m drawn from the cloud I’m floating on when Dan’s hand falls from my hair. I pull out of him and lift my head, fear churning in my stomach - he’s not moving, and his eyes are closed. _What if I killed him? What if I sucked him dry and he’s dead now?_ I act purely on instinct, biting into my own wrist and letting the blood drip into his parted lips. _Come on, please work, please wake up,_ I beg to any deity that might be listening. _I can’t lose him._

He doesn’t move, though, and I can feel the chill setting into his skin. I collapse beside his body, staring at the two bloodied puncture wounds in his neck. I must lay beside him for hours, but I’m terrified to move, terrified that if I break the stillness of the moment, it will all be real. _I’ll have killed him._ I can’t leave him, but the cold of my own body is already sapping the warmth from him. _I did this, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have listened, I-_ my thoughts cease to form when his eyes flick open.

“Phil?” He asks incredulously, turning slightly to face me. My mouth has dropped open, and tears well in my eyes - _he’s not dead!_ I’m at a loss for words, which is fine, because he’s not finished.

“I just had the _best_ idea for that TABINOF fanfiction…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! If you'd like, feel free to give it a cheeky [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/166710758167/that-vampirephil-phanfic-i-promised-id-write)


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